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Drunk again. By four in the afternoon. As is becoming habit with him, though certainly not a good habit; the only time he consciously abstains is when he knows he'll be seeing Morgause, because he knows she'll have no patience with it, but apart from that--
He's fairly cheerful about it, at least, and it is, admittedly, keeping him from concentrating on the fact that his scars itch-hurt something crazy, but that's about it. He looks terrible, exhausted and fuzzy, his hair rumpled and his clothes wrinkled like slept in, and he's leaned back quietly in the windowseat, smiling at nothing particularly, glass and bottle by his hand.
He's fairly cheerful about it, at least, and it is, admittedly, keeping him from concentrating on the fact that his scars itch-hurt something crazy, but that's about it. He looks terrible, exhausted and fuzzy, his hair rumpled and his clothes wrinkled like slept in, and he's leaned back quietly in the windowseat, smiling at nothing particularly, glass and bottle by his hand.